Forsaken revisited
by xsaturnine
Summary: To find what he's missing, he must first destroy his other half. Cloud centric. [Rewritten.]
1. ZERO: Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not claim to own anything, except for maybe myself, but since I am not in this story, it doesn't matter.

Please be sure to read the note on my profile page, as it's too long to stick in here.

* * *

**ZERO: Prologue**

Darkness fell like stardust, soft like snow and heavy like night's breath.

He trembled as the wind brushed frosty fingers across the nape of his neck, hissing sinister promises into his ear, intrusive and too intimate. He whirled around in wide-eyed alarm as the shadows behind him crept closer, elusive figures reaching out to envelop him in a lover's embrace that would shatter his body into a million black-edged porcelain pieces.

The unfamiliarity of the land scared him, and his eyes were frantic, searching in vain for something that wasn't sand or stone or shadow. His mind was stretched too thin, and he longed for the warmth and security of home, for his World and for friends who were nowhere to be seen.

He was alone. The silence built up to a climax and without warning, a voice came crashing down on him, sound accompanied by flashing images of a black inferno raging against a white plane. He blinked furiously and staggered back.

"What do we have here?"

The question was punctuated by flames of wild, dancing red that erupted from the ground before him. His knees gave way as an entity of fire and death—yes, death, he was sure—emerged, robed in charcoal grey and topped with flickering blue. It towered above his sprawled form, the very personification of blazing destruction.

"Lost, are we?"

He found speech impossible, so he nodded timidly, subconsciously backing away from the embers licking at his feet.

"Marvelous." A wicked smile that he knew he would never forget. "The name's Hades, God of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead, Sovereign of Below, yadda yadda. All that jazz. But none of that's important to you, is it?"

He swallowed hard, surprised and unsure of how to respond.

"That's okay. I can help you, kid."

A hand was extended, presumably in a gesture of friendship, or, alternatively, it might incinerate him on contact.

"Come on, pup. I don't burn, you know. Don't let my hair deceive you; it's really just a fashion statement."

"Oh," he said quietly when nothing else came to mind.

He tentatively touched his fingers to the proffered palm and was abruptly overcome by an unnatural chill. He immediately tried to withdraw, but a clammy hand had already wrapped around his wrist and hauled him to his now cold-numbed feet.

"You'll get used to it."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, refusing to acknowledge anything other than the pounding of his own heart.

He felt a hand on his cheek suddenly and he gasped, frozen and unable to do anything but stare up at yellow eyes that held promises of darkness and damnation.

"What is your name, child?" All airiness was gone, replaced by a menacing timbre that shook his entire body. He couldn't speak.

Hades tsk'ed and straightened.

"I'm _really_ not in the mood for dilly-dallying. I've got places to be, people to damn. So, when I ask you a question—"

He screamed. A wave of intensifying pain engulfed him and he forgot where-when-who-what-_how_. Broken like glass, scattered and distorted and abandoned. Burning, drowning, bleeding; nonexistent fire and ice, and imaginary knives that sliced and sliced and sliced.

"—I expect you to answer."

The world exploded in shades of black and hues of red, his vision twisted and tampered with until every appearance lied to him. He heard the clashing of swords, the battle cries of warriors past, and the desperate wails of the eternally lost. The sounds of Olympic Coliseum rang in his head, impossibly loud and overwhelming.

"Ready to try again, pup?"

He was on his hands and knees, eyes wide and staring at the ground that was slowly being colored by the vermillion that dripped from between parted lips. His breathing was ragged and his throat raw.

"Now, what is your _name_?"

"Cloud," he whispered. "It's Cloud. Cloudcloudcloudcloudcloud."

Serrated teeth were displayed in a victorious grin. "_Very _good. Now, Cloud, where are you from?"

"From—I'm from—I—" He paused, his memory strewn haphazardly about his rapidly fading consciousness.

"Again?" A sigh.

He couldn't breathe suddenly. He clamped his hands to his mouth and coughed violently, his throat blistering further. More blood. It seeped through his fingers and fell thickly into the growing puddle at his knees.

"From?"

"Hollow—" He choked. "Hollow Bas—Hollow Bastion. Hollow Bastion."

"Are you? I suppose Maleficent's already established headquarters there. Which is why _you're _here, I guess. That's tough, kid." Quiet as plans were mentally drawn up and considered. Then: "But, like I said, I can help you."

He looked up and his blue eyes were pleading, desperate.

Hades knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder. This time, it was warm and reassuring, as if the torment that had just transpired seconds before had not transpired at all. "What is it that you're looking for, Cloud?"

His world dimmed drastically and he felt compelled to reply, to bare his soul to the descending darkness.

"I want—I want to see my friends again. I want to see Squall and Aerith and Yuffie and Cid."

An encouraging smile. "And?"

"And." He shut his eyes. "And I want to go home. With them."

"Why?"

"Because—because it's too dark here without them."

Hades rose, satisfied. "Well, we'll have to remedy that. Stand, boy."

He did as he was told, quaking with exhaustion and apprehension.

"What will you give to be reunited with your friends, Cloud?"

"Anything," he said without hesitation. He would give anything for them, for the only family he's ever had; he knew nothing else.

A predatory smirk. "Exactly what I wanted to hear." Hades looked down on him. "But you are too weak. You can't hope to see them again if you can hardly stand on your own two feet, now can you?"

"No," he murmured, defeated.

"Precisely. But don't worry. I can give you the strength you need."

A hand patted him on the head. "However, you'll have to pay a price. You'll have to work for me. Understood, pup?"

He nodded silently.

A gleeful, "Excellent," followed by a swish of robes as Hades moved to stand behind him. "Ready, kid?"

"Yes." He meant for it to sound certain, but it came out strangled and cracked.

Hades took his left hand and made a deep horizontal cut across his palm. The blood ran red, pure and true, flowing stronger with each heartbeat.

_Submit_.

And he didn't care what happened to him anymore. The darkness surrounded him like it had during his last moments in Hollow Bastion, like it had even _before_ that, when he had fought futilely against an invading evil. He surrendered completely and gave himself in to the shadows that beckoned. All faded to black.

_This is the path you have chosen._

And then everything came rushing back. The veil was lifted; his eyesight was keener, his hearing sharper. He could see every sliver of moonlight, hear even the silent murmurings of the godlike statues that stood tall over the Coliseum entrance, crossing their blades and brandishing their shields proudly, for everything, if made with enough love and purpose, had life breathed into it.

_And now you must walk it._

Needle-prick sensations assaulted his back and he stumbled forward in shock, twisting his head around to see bone, slick and white, protruding through pale flesh. Twin structures, mirror images of each other, extended from his shoulder blades. Obsidian leather claimed the exposed skeleton, transforming them instantaneously into demonic wings. A distant roar rang in his ears, primal and deep; adrenaline ran through him.

_It is sealed with blood._

Then, there was peace.

His eyelids fluttered closed as he spread his new wings slowly, reveling in the absolute power he felt coursing through him from wingtip to wingtip.

"Better?"

He turned, eyes a storm of crimson-black. "Yes," and his voice was solid, firm, much unlike the stuttering thirteen-year-old in his place moments before.

"Of course. It _is_ my own work." A menacing step closer. "Now, some things to take care of."

A languid gesture and chaos broke out once more. Fire charred the walls and fed the dying blazes of the Coliseum torches as they flared hungrily. Hades's hand shot out to grasp his right wing, pulling him near. Flickering shadows on the walls, cast by the heated glow, reflected every movement on a surreal and exaggerated plane.

"_This _is to make sure that you don't fly away, Cloudie-boy." A vicious wrench and one wing was ripped from his body, tissue tearing and ligaments snapping.

He collapsed as Hades released him, pain blotting out all else.

"Do not forget that you belong to me now, pup. You are to do my bidding and maybe I'll get around to finding those friends of yours, eh?"

He said nothing, in too much shock to protest, confidence gone and replaced once again by vulnerability.

"Good. Very good. I'm glad we agree." A rustle of robes and then: nothing.

He lay still for an agonizingly long time before forcing himself into a sitting position, his body threatening to mutiny against him. He touched the blood flowing from his wound and was unsurprised when his fingers were stained black instead of red.

He drew his legs close to him, put his head on his knees, and closed his glazed, blue-again eyes. He dreamt of water-rises and a Library, of grand staircases and hidden hallways, of Squall and Aerith, Yuffie and Cid, and of blackness seeping through everything like spilt ink on painted canvas.

* * *

08.01.06 


	2. ONE: Set the Stage, No Exit

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately, I am not Square Enix or Disney, and therefore I am not worth multimillions and I am not making any profit from this whatsoever. Obviously. And tragically.

* * *

**ONE: Set the Stage; No Exit**

"Hollow Bastion is… ?"

"Maleficent has that base covered. Its inhabitants are either dead or scattered throughout the Worlds."

"I see. In that case, is it safe to assume that you've obtained what I asked for?"

"I have the boy, if that's what you're talking about. Had to transport him to Olympus myself."

"You never disappoint, Hades, my friend."

"I'm not your friend, big guy. I own your soul, in case you forgot."

"I did not."

"Good. And since you won't be in the living realm for a while, I'm going to put him to good use until you make your ever-so-triumphant return."

"You'll train him?"

"Yeah, he's got to know how to fight, doesn't he? I mean, it's a nasty world up there and down here. And since you've already tainted him, I'll finish what you started."

"Indeed."

"The kid's a scrawny little thing, but if we're lucky, he might turn out to be a match for"— a flash of angry red—"Hercules. Pfft. Demigod my flaming head of hair."

"Do what you will, but remember: he is mine. You'll have to find another puppet once I return to claim him."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll talk business when you actually have a corporeal form."

"It won't be long. Expect me at the Coliseum."

"Of course. It's been a pleasure as always. Take care, eh? Enjoy death while you can."

* * *

_He was not yet as tall as Hades's elbow, though, in his defense, the god had unnatural height._

_"I've got a contract for you."_

_"What for?"_

_"You work for me, I help you along. Now sign it. In blood, if you please."

* * *

_

_"Why Hercules?"_

_"It's to your benefit if you just do as I say, I assure you."_

_"You can't beat him yourself, is that it?"_

_"You'd do well to mind your tongue, pup."

* * *

_

_"Heroes do not falter, boy."_

_"I'm not a hero."_

_"Ah, but you're an antihero."

* * *

_

He opened his eyes and immediately fought down the urge to turn to the side and vomit in a spectacular display of nausea. He tentatively moved a finger, staring resolutely at the opposite wall and refusing to shut his eyes despite the brutal onslaught of sensory information. Grimacing slightly, he pressed a cold hand to his face and inhaled deeply.

Without moving his head, he took in his surroundings. Stone, torches, more stone, trophies.

Coliseum Lobby.

His memory summoned images of a battle, a keyblade, Sora. A bruised, battered, very defeated Sora.

Then Cerberus, that tri-headed, flea-infested, spittle-for-brains—

Cerberus. The Gatekeeper of Hell. Sent by Hades.

"_Accidents happen."_

He ground his teeth. He wanted out. _Now_.

The world flashed a blinding white as he made to stand. Vertigo threatened to topple him, but a silent desperation drove him on.

He wanted out, he wanted out.

He stumbled outside into too-cheery daylight, staggered to the steps of the World Exit. He blinked up at the tall double doors, felt freedom beckon him on the other side. His hand reached out.

_Please._

Then hopelessness crashed down on him, the tide dragging him out to a black sea.

"Ha," he breathed, half-lidded eyes the color of a falling sky.

He turned back to the Coliseum, sat down on the steps, and was silent.

* * *

"_You called for me, sir?"_

"_Yes, yes." The man turned and beckoned impatiently. "Come in, there's something I want to discuss with you."_

_He stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind him._

"_Sit down, sit down. And do make yourself comfortable."_

_He moved to sit on a plain, high-backed chair, his feet dangling a few preadolescent inches above the ground, his entire form calm and slack._

_Tea was offered and politely refused. Lamps were lit and the soft blue light chased the shadows to obscure corners of the room._

"_I hope you'll forgive me for my brashness, but there are pressing matters that I must address."_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_It's come to my attention that you no longer have any living blood relatives?"_

_The boy shook his head, expression blank._

"_I see. I am sorry for your loss, of course. Your mother's death was, in every regard, unfortunate and we all mourn her passage."_

_He cast his eyes downwards and started to swing his legs with subtle petulance._

_There was a pause as the man observed him. Then, as if a final judgment had been made, the conversation continued albeit a bit gracelessly. "Who have you been staying with?"_

"_With Cid, sir."_

"_Ah, Mr. Highwind. Without him, none of our transportation devices would function half as well as we would like them to."_

_He nodded._

"_And how is life in his household?"_

"_S'very interesting."_

"_Oh? How so?"_

"_Well…" The boy studied his shoes, which were untied, laces fraying at the tips. "He lets me in the hangar when he's working on his ships. He says someday he'll fly far away and into the sky and beyond. He says he'll bring a star back for me."_

_(The man hid a knowing smirk.)_

"_But whenever something falls off or goes on fire, he says a lot of words that I'm told not to repeat. I don't know what they mean though, and none of the grown-ups will tell me."_

_He leaned back into the chair and stared at his hands in his lap. His skin was a pale, eerie blue in the light. "Sometimes Squall and Aerith come over, and they bring Yuffie too. She annoys Squall a lot. He never says anything, but I can tell, 'cause he gets all silent and doesn't smile at anything when he's mad."_

"_But I assume that you, Gainsborough, Kisaragi, and Leonhart are good friends?"_

"_Yes, sir," he said. He heard the man mumble something under his breath._

_His gaze falls on a cup of tea, its contents untouched. "Cid drinks a lot of tea too. He says it's calming, but I don't think so, because he almost always sounds angry. Aerith says it's because he used to smoke a lot and now he doesn't. I don't know why anyone would want to smoke though. I tried once, when Squall dared me to, and I thought I was going to die. Cid found out and he got really mad. He said he'd make me smoke a pack a day until I learned my lesson, but I guess he lied."_

_He stopped talking and glanced around the room._

"_Is there a problem?"_

"_No, sir. S'just a bit dark in here."_

"_Pay it no mind; the darkness cannot hurt you."_

"_I know that, sir."_

"_Do you really?" The smile was predatory. "I see that your mentor has been teaching you well."_

_The boy nodded, his face still barren of emotion, legs still swinging like a kept child._

_Orange eyes assessed him once more; he was perfectly and chillingly empty._

"_Well then. Cloud, I have a proposition for you."

* * *

_

Eyes flickered open, panic flashing briefly.

His breathing slowed.

The calm before calamity.

* * *

"Hey, are you all right?"

He looked up to see a motley crew of boy, dog, and duck. He did not blink as he stared into eyes mirroring his own.

"Yeah," he lied.

He wanted to add, "I'm fine," but he had never meant it anyway.

* * *

**Notes**: FINALLY. :collapses:

If this chapter was confusing, I apologize. I have a tendency to leave names out, because I feel it's too blatant. I think it's clear who's who, but then again, I may be wrong. I like to give you guys SOME credit though. You're not all brain dead like me, fortunately.

So. The ubiquitous I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG PLEASE FORGIVE ME. Seriously though. Much props to whoever's still reading. I know I would've given up on me.

When writing this, I kept slipping into the present tense, and I may not have caught all the mistakes, so feel free to correct me! I'm just so used to writing drabbles in present.

And a hardcore THANK YOU to all reviewers! Mysteryguy12 for being the first, wyrd for pointing out my lapses in grammar, Phantom Fox, alescA, and AquilaStrife (times four for reviewing all my other stuff too!). Oh, and nicetoknowyou89, but not really, 'cause she's a loser in real life. Hahaha. Double the gratitude if you were a reader of the original _Forsaken _as well. A huge OMGYOUROCKSOHARD to all!

12.03.06


	3. TWO: Hello and Goodbye Again Part One

**Disclaimer**: The fact that I would be hunt down and shot for claiming ownership of any of these characters and places is proof that I do not own them.

* * *

**TWO: Hello and Goodbye Again (Part the First)**

"Don't wander, Yuffie."

"Squall, if I reached out, I would be able to slap you, which means I am not far enough away to constitute wandering."

"And don't make me regret bringing you here."

"Hah! You should be so lucky to have my company! Besides, you need me for this."

"I would have managed."

"I bet you wouldn't have."

"Just stop talking."

"Just admit that you can't do anything without me."

"Shut up."

Yuffie let the conversation drop as they reached the registration desk (which only went as high as Leon's knee to accommodate the minute satyr sitting behind it). Leon hefted his gunblade over his shoulder.

"We're here to register for the Pegasus Cup."

The little creature leaned back in its chair and kicked up its hooves, a clipboard resting on its lap. "Yeah? Tell me something I don't know. Like your names, for starters."

"I am the great ninja Yuffie, and this schmuck here goes by Squall."

"Leon."

The satyr glanced up in mild irritation. "What?"

"The name's Leon. She's Yuffie."

"Whatever. I'm Philoctetes and ain't nobody gonna to fight in any tournament without going through me first, so don't you forget."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Goat Man, sir." Yuffie gave a mock salute. "We humbly recognize your utmost importance and—"

Leon saw the need for damage control and swiftly stepped in to prevent the obliteration of their tickets. "We'll be sure to remember, so if you would be so kind, we'd like to enter—"

"Together!"

Leon's palm met his face.

A long, awkward silence followed, broken only when Phil finally slammed their passes on the table and said, grudgingly, "Fine! But only because Herc isn't around—visiting relatives up on Mount Olympus or something equally sappy—and we're short on contenders. Consider yourselves lucky."

"Oh, we do." Leon picked up their passes and dragged Yuffie away before she had the chance to manage further incitement.

Several hours later, they had won the position of First Seed by dethroning three Fat Bandits and two Large Bodies.

"Go on a diet, if not for my sake, then for your own!" Yuffie had shouted after having been rammed four successive times, thus dropping her entire supply of shuriken. Leon had had to cover her as she crawled around frantically picking them up; the audience's amusement had done nothing to help her mounting surliness.

But they had come out triumphant in the end.

Yuffie flashed the cheering crowd a grin and a victory sign, her dignity safe and intact.

Leon lazily slashed the air in front of him. "That's it for today."

They found a nearby inn called The Hero's Camp and retired to their respective rooms after a quick, informal meal, during which Yuffie kept sneaking her peas onto Leon's plate.

* * *

The tournament resumed the next morning, and so far, no one had even come close to First Seed.

"Wimps!" Yuffie called out from her seat in the arena. "Come on! How did you _not_ see that coming? It was twice the size of your head!"

Leon decided that he valued his sanity too much to continue to subject it to this torture.

"I'm going for a walk."

"I'll come with!"

"Only if you're quiet."

"You won't even know I'm there."

He could not bring himself to believe it, but allowed it anyway, having learnt long ago that bargaining with Yuffie was both fruitless and self-depreciating.

They left and soon found themselves in the training wing, far away from the sounds of battle. The room was vast, teeming with fighters, prospective opponents.

"Come on. We could use the practice."

"Not really, but okay." Yuffie shrugged and followed him inside.

They fell into an old routine: Yuffie throwing shuriken and Leon deflecting. At intervals, he would fire a shot from his gunblade and she would somersault and cartwheel to dodge it. Others trained around them, and for the most part, they paid the pair no mind other than to avoid a rogue magic spell or poorly aimed ninja star.

Suddenly, an urgent chorus rang out: "Watch out!"

Without warning, a sword came spinning towards them in midair; Leon threw himself to the side to avoid being sliced into two bloody, wholly useless halves.

"Fuck!" He whispered to no one in particular, and was glad that Yuffie didn't hear him. In an instant he was on his feet again, glaring at the sword-turned-tomahawk, which now lay harmless on the ground.

"Sorry," said a voice. The crowd parted to let its owner through. (Yuffie subtly remarked that the whole thing looked a bit religious, to be honest.)

Leon looked up, ready to curse whoever it was into fiery oblivion for lacking the brainpower to comprehend that sharp objects are to remain firmly in one's hands and not whirling through the air in much occupied rooms.

What he ended up saying was: "Oh." He blinked. "Hello."

* * *

They were in the Coliseum Lobby, and Leon had yet to say something. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes closed. He took the time to reevaluate some things.

There were days when the inhabitants of Traverse Town convened in the First District to discuss the current events, the Worlds, the Heartless, the Keyblade, and Sora. The people would gather (there weren't many of them) in Cid's small shop, and though it wasn't much, there was still a sense of community, of hope and belonging.

There were instances where, out of habit, he would do a head count, silently logging every individual face in his mind. There was Aerith, Yuffie, Cid, and himself; the three ducklings that owned the shop nearby; the woman who ran the café; the wizard Merlin; the man who patrolled the World Exit; the innkeeper; others who merely woke up to find themselves in Traverse Town and never left.

Whenever he counted, he always came up one short, and he would always have to remind himself that when something was lost, it had to be subtracted from the total.

But he could never bring himself to do it, and each count he did reminded him, "We're still missing one."

He had then decided that an inaccurate sum was better than cruel precision.

At least he would never forget.

But now, in this Grecian room and for the first time in ages, he would have to add instead of take away.

"Found you at last!" Yuffie had taken to their new companion rather nicely as the shock of finding him clearly did not hit her as hard as it did Leon. She was all giggling enthusiasm and hyperactive joy, walking literal circles around them both. "So what _are _you doing here?"

"I'm looking for something."

"Something important, I'm assuming?"

"Yes."

"More important than us?" She pouted. "Well, what is it? Maybe we can help. And then you'll come back with us, right?"

There was no answer.

"Still misplacing things, huh?" Leon glanced up finally. "You haven't changed a bit, Cloud."

"Well, this time, it really wasn't my fault." He ran a hand through his hair and avoided eye contact (like he always did).

_Idiosyncrasies_, Leon thought to himself. He fought down the urge to smile. The relief of finding Cloud alive and well after all these years was enough to lift his spirits to a record high (though he refused to let his face know). It proved the pessimist in him wrong, and that made him ridiculously happy and a little bit insecure. He could not (would not) accept this twist of fate just yet; miracles, he believed, do not happen, ever.

"What'd you lose this time?"

"It's—I didn't—" He paused. "It's my light. But that's not really what I'm looking for. I mean, I'm searching for it, yes, but what—who I need to find is—"

"Him."

Cloud frowned. "Yes."

Yuffie shoved herself between them. "Ansem? We're looking for him too! Why don't you come with us?"

"Not Ansem, but—"

"I'm not following," interrupted Leon, all care for manners abandoned. "You're searching for your light, so you go to _him_?"

"He's the one who keeps me." Cloud did not look at him. "I'm going to have to face him eventually."

"And you think you can find him here?"

"Well—yes. Showdown of Fate and all, right? What better place than this?" He attempted a smile, but his face decided a grimace was more fitting.

"Right," Leon sighed.

Yuffie pulled at his left arm. (He clenched his right fist, hiding the sharp claws of his gauntlet.) "But why haven't you tried to contact us, Cloud? We haven't seen you since the World's end and that was nine years ago (1)!"

"I didn't want to come back with this burden on my shoulders. Besides, I knew everyone had survived, and that was enough for the time being."

He didn't mention that there were spontaneous moments when he had missed them so much that it had threatened to collapse him from the inside. But he had refused to meet them in this state, vowing to return to them _whole_; without his light, he was unworthy, empty.

But the only way for him to be whole again, the only way to find what he was missing was to destroy his other half.

He hated contradictions.

"Well, we're glad to have found you again. Right, Squall?"

"It's Leon."

"Ch'yeah." Yuffie turned to Cloud and jabbed a thumb in Leon's direction. "He has this thing now. 'My name's Leon, not Squall.' Tell him he's being stupid."

"You're being stupid, Squall," Cloud remarked, with perhaps more seriousness than expected.

But before Leon could retort, Cloud looked away abruptly, his mouth settling into a scowl, eyes narrowing, listening intently for something only he could hear. The atmosphere in the room darkened considerably, as if a sinister aura was slowly seeping in from the cracks in the wall and floor. Leon was about to draw his gunblade when Cloud turned back to them, his expression was tired and resigned.

"I have to go," he said in the tones of the defeated.

"What, why? Now? But we just got back together!"

He barely glanced at Yuffie as he apologized. "Sorry, but I'm being summoned." He walked out of the Lobby without another word, tattered red cape flowing behind him like a mythical creature of blood and smoke.

She followed him outside, into the sun and open air, but there was no one there.

There was disappointment in her eyes and though Leon didn't say anything, something in his mind crooned, "I told you so," and let out a long, long laugh.

* * *

**Notes**: (1) In the game, Cid says he stored a navigation gummi in the Secret Waterway of Traverse Town when he arrived there nine years ago. I'm assuming that's when he first arrived at Traverse Town, when Hollow Bastion was taken over by the Heartless. For the story's sake, Cloud did not escape with the rest of the World, because, as mentioned in the previous chapter, Hades transported him to Olympus.

Wow. I actually had to split this chapter into two parts because it was getting way too long. The good thing is that the next chapter will be up in record time!

I really don't like the dialogue between the Cloud, Yuffie and Squall, but there were some things I had to include, due to them being canon and part of the game script (eg: Cloud's "light"). Alas, I did the best I could. Came out rather choppy though, I think. I didn't mean for this to be a relief chapter, but I guess that's how it turned out. It is greatly lacking in impact, yes?

Anyway, Kingdom Hearts II! I think that by the time I finish this, I will have finished the game as well, so I guess the last few chapters (or maybe the epilogue) will lead into KHII's plot. We'll see.

As always, any slips into the present tense? Point it out to me before pointing the gun to my head so that I can at least correct it before I am blown away, eh? The very spiffy Wyrd covers this nicely, and I am eternally grateful that violence has not yet been employed. Criticisms and suggestions are also welcomed!

Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I think I could live on reviews, if they were tangible. Heh.

27.03.06


	4. THREE: Hello and Goodbye Again Part Two

**Disclaimer**: In Kingdom Hearts, did Cloud become a permanent member of your party? Did he sing and dance around for the player's enjoyment? Did he burst out of Kingdom Hearts when Ansem did his whole dramatic theatrical hand-gesture-wave-thing? No? Well, guess I don't own anything then.

* * *

**THREE: Hello and Goodbye Again (Part the Second)**

Leon couldn't sleep, feeling restless, his mind turbulent. He rolled out of bed, pulled on his boots, stood, and swore under his breath when his hip collided with the corner of the nightstand.

"Furniture," he muttered caustically, as if the very thought of it was completely absurd.

He slipped out of the inn after glancing briefly into Yuffie's room to make sure everything was calm (heart still beating, shadows in stasis, safe).

There wasn't much of this World he knew, this being his first time here, so his feet led him to the only other familiar place on this plane. The Coliseum was empty, deserted, or at least it seemed so. The night sky looked vast in this open space, and it would've been intimidating had Leon been one for stargazing.

But since he wasn't interested in things so distant (so unreachable), his attention focused on something closer, something _reachable_ (though he wasn't too sure about that).

Without giving it much thought, he shot a fireball from his gunblade, watching as Cloud whirled around to deflect it, an effortless impromptu maneuver.

Leon stepped down into the arena, gunblade over his shoulder. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"No. But this is much more cathartic." Cloud did not tell him that he rarely slept anymore.

"Well, in the case that we're both still up at this ungodly hour, I have questions, and I'm sure you have some answers for me."

Cloud shrugged and said nothing, but he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and waited.

"Firstly, what are you hiding?"

_Damn it_, Cloud thought as Leon faced him fully, blue on blue. _He made eye contact. No escape now._

He did not respond right away, concentrating most of his energies on smothering his habit of talking to his shoes instead of the other person. Then he decided it was too awkward standing like this: Leon waiting for him to respond and him fighting old insecurities. When he finally did answer, it wasn't with words. He felt a shift, something building up, his back prickling, and then—_ah_. A moment later and a leathery, black wing extended from his back, angry electricity crackling from wingtip to shoulder blade. He stretched it languidly, his eyes defensive.

"Oh." It was a wholly inadequate reaction, but Leon was never one for histrionics. He forced down the verbal flood of questions threatening to drown them both, and carefully selected just one. One word. "How?"

Cloud shrugged again. "Hades. It was in the contract."

"You signed a contract with the God of the Underworld?" Leon shook his head. "Brilliant."

"Thanks. I thought so too, at the time." The wing fluttered. "It's not so bad. Strikes fear in your opponents' hearts and all that, only trouble is that most of them don't have hearts to begin with."

Leon's grip on his gunblade tightened. "Why did you sign?"

Cloud broke and cast his gaze downward. "Didn't have much of a choice," he replied. "I was in too deep even before the Heartless invaded Hollow Bastion."

"Sephiroth," Leon confirmed.

Cloud stared into the distance, eyes focused on something no one could see. He continued. "Do you know what Jenova is?"

He blinked once, slowly. "I think I heard Ansem mention it once," Leon began, unsure of how to react to this sudden dive. "I don't know anything about it though."

Cloud flexed his hand reflexively, the light reflecting off the metal of his gauntlet.

"Jenova is a breed of Heartless. It's intelligent and manipulative, created by vengeful hearts."

"But what does that have to do with you?"

Cloud ignored him. "It lacks a corporeal form because its hatred dissolves even the darkness that makes up other Heartless. Shadows melt under its touch; toxic is the only way to describe it." There was a slight pause. "So Jenova needs a host. It needs something more tangible than mere shadow and smoke."

"You mean—flesh and bone? A body?"

"Basically."

Leon wanted to laugh suddenly. Flesh and bone, huh? Something with essence, something tangible? Hah! He studied Cloud, who had always been so pale and so quiet and so withdrawn that sometimes it was hard to believe that he existed at _all_. Leon felt like if he reached out to him, his hand would meet nothing, no flesh, no bone (no heart? soul?), and he frowned suddenly. But he knew that Cloud was real, as real as him or the Heartless, and he knew because he's spent countless nights telling himself just that. He's repeated it over and over like a feverish mantra, the sound of his own breathing a reassurance to his claim. Real (_inhale_), real (_exhale_), _real_ (_breathe_).

Real. So that also means Sephiroth could hurt him, could use him. Puppet puppet puppet.

But.

Puppets don't cry (Cloud does; Leon's seen his tears), puppets don't bleed (Cloud does; Leon's tended to his wounds before), and puppets don't smile like _that_ (but Cloud used to, Leon remembers).

"Why you? Why couldn't he have picked another urchin off the street?" His tone was bitter, his words demanding penance for what he felt was a huge injustice. Leon knew that he was on the wrong train of thought; the matter wasn't _who_ was chosen to be test subjects, but that the experiments had been allowed to take place at all. Still, Sephiroth had chosen Cloud (_Cloud Strife_, for Merlin's sake, the skinny little blonde kid with the big eyes who had lived two houses down from him when they were young), and Leon felt strangely angered. It was simply _unfair_—he had a fleeting image of himself stamping his feet—that Cloud should endure this along with everything else that had happened in the past.

"I don't know. I guess because there weren't going to be any legal issues after my—"

Leon glared at him, irrationally irritated. "Shut up."

Cloud was unaffected. "You asked."

"When did he first try it?"

The question was blatantly sidestepped. "Sephiroth told me some things about Jenova. It doesn't devour hearts—the host is too weak without a heart—but it leaves traces of itself, Jenova cells. These cells continue to circulate—"

"Answer me."

"And once those cells are inside you, it's inevitable that you'll gravitate back to Jenova. You're bound to the dar—"

"Damn it, Cloud, _when_?"

He stared at him impassively. "You _know_ when, Squall."

Temper pulled violently at its chains and Leon ground his teeth. "And _you_ know that my name is Leon now."

"Whatever. Three years my senior and you still don't know any better." Cloud turned away, jaw set, arms crossed. He had always put up with stupidity by ignoring it; it would eventually become attention-starved and then die off.

Leon did not say anything (this was the first time the age card had been used _against _him), but he _did_ start to recall when things had started to fall dead at his feet (one by one, they had dropped, lifeless).

He was fourteen when he watched the procession march past his house, a head of blonde hair nowhere to be seen amidst black veils and suits; fifteen when he knocked on Cloud's front door and, when no one answered, climbed through the window only to find the house empty (cold).

Fourteen when he first saw Strife cry (he had found him after the funeral, in the Bailey, curled up and shaking), fifteen when his best friend disappeared (one word, one name: _Ansem_).

"He only tried it once," Cloud offered at last. "Didn't really have time for a second trial."

Leon sighed. "And? What happened?"

"What do you think? It was too much, too soon; there was no way I was strong enough for it yet. My body shut down before Jenova could take full control." A pause. "It's strange. When it spoke to me, it sounded like my mother. I guess it sounds like everyone's mother, because that's what Sephiroth called it. Her. He called her Mother."

"You didn't actually _believe_ it was her, did you?"

"Of course I did."

"What?"

"You start to believe anything when you're twelve and the only intelligent conversations you have are in your head, with a voice you never thought you'd hear again, the same voice that used to say 'Play nice' or 'Dress warmly' or 'Come in for dinner' or 'I lo—' or whatever."

Cloud's back was to Leon, wing bared. His hand was still on the hilt of his sword and for a moment, he couldn't think of a time when he had been without it, couldn't think of a time when he _wasn't_ afraid to open his eyes and see the world for what it was.

"It nearly kills you to accept the truth sometimes. You know that, don't you, Leon?"

And Leon _did_ know. He knew the way truth pressed soft butterfly promises to your skin, whispering _I'm all you need_, when really, honesty murders under the banner of virtue. He knew reality saw no difference between acceptance and surrender, and would take both as an invitation to ravage, to burn, to ruin.

But damned if he was just going to lie down and let a crusade in the name of integrity and righteousness march all over him. He was no martyr; he would live to fight another day, not for what's right, but for what's _best_.

And what's best was _not_ this, was _not _for them to be separated, was _not _for Cloud to endure his darkness alone.

Leon waited a while before saying, very quietly, "Well, _we're _still here. We're not just voices in your head. And once Sora is through, there'll be no Ansem or Sephiroth or Jenova holding you back from seeing us."

As he said it, his resolve dug deeper, anchoring itself securely against the Heartless and even greater evils.

"That's a bit optimistic."

"No, optimism is hoping you'd be less of a stubborn bastard."

"Hah."

"When everything is over and done with, you know where to find us."

Cloud looked at him again and gave a half-salute. "Yes, sir," he said patronizingly, though a bit wearily.

It was silent for a minute before Leon found his last words. "You sure you don't need a shoulder to cry on? To satisfy your effeminate predilection for woeful dramatics or something?"

Cloud fought down a smirk. "I think I'll be fine."

"All right then. Goodbye." Leon exited the arena as the first whisper of steel cut through the air.

* * *

EURGH MY GOD. No excuses this time. Just. GYAH. That'll teach me to make unrealistic and totally ruinous promises in the future.

I think AquilaStrife would like to know that her emails (with which I am totally arse at keeping up, by the way, no surprise) inspired me to write and, eventually, update. If you liked it, thank her; if you hated it, let it be known that it was completely her fault. Ahaha, I kid. Much thanks to everyone who reviewed; you guys all deserve a cookie or some other form of baked goods.

Show of hands, who honestly gave up on updates? Who's still reading, for that matter? Really? Can I, like, whore myself to you? You rock my world.

It's 1:59 AM right now. Hoo boy.

15.05.06


End file.
